Page 32 of Cruel Russian King

“My men and I went to intercept a rival faction's ammunition shipment. We're talking about military grade weapons and explosives.”

My brows furrowed. “Don't you have those? Why would you steal theirs?”

Artyom smirked, then focused as the needle pierced his skin and he started stitching and a jolt shot to my core.

What the hell was that?

“Yes, we do have our ownbutif we steal theirs then we have more weapons and ammunition, and they also can't use that shit on us.”

I nodded.

“It makes sense,” I mumbled, my eyes still glued to Artyom's neck as his fingers moved gracefully.

Did men like Artyom have graceful fingers?

“It was supposed to be a simple enough job even though we weren't on home turf. The other group wasn't Bratva, just some street thugs with a heavy handed alliance. But, somehow they found out that we were coming and intercepted us a block before we could seize their goods.”

“You think someone leaked the information to them?” I lifted a brow.

“That is a possibility.” His eyes darkened.

“Besides the graze on your neck, did anyone else get injured? Are Yegor and Zahkar okay? And your men?”

“Yegor and Zahkar are okay. We had a few casualties. Nothing serious.” A wicked smile rolled across his lips. My heart jumped. “Much more than I could say about their men.”

I watched as Artyom twisted his neck and tried to adjust his position.

“Do you need help?” I asked, before I realized what I was saying.

His eyes snapped to mine. “You've stitched a man before?”

“No, but if it's anything like stitching clothing that's been torn I could give it a shot.” I quickly added, “If you need my help.”

He looked at me for a moment.

“I'd appreciate it.”

I stood up, my legs shaky as I moved towards Artyom. I searched the first aid kit and removed some alcoholic wipes and wiped both hands.

Artyom captured my gaze in the mirror and held out the needle to me. I took it and looked at the wound. There was just a tiny piece at the back of his neck that needed stitches, probably three stitches max.

“Printsessa, you're not going to be sick are you?” Artyom asked, amusement laced in his voice.

I inhaled deeply. “No, I'm ok. Tell me how you and your men escaped. Did you have to call in reinforcements?”

Pushing the hair on the nape of his neck aside, I touched Artyom's neck and his pulse thundered against my fingers. I held my breath as I pushed the needle through his soft skin.

“We didn't need to call for reinforcements. I train my men and push them hard. Only the strong survive. Outside in the faction one mistake could cost you your last breath.”

I gently pulled the thread through and punctured his skin again.

“Do you always go with your men on missions like this?”

“Doesn't Lev?”

I shrugged slightly as I pulled the thread. “I don't know. Like I said he doesn't share this part of our world with me, or Mariya.”

“Most times I do go. The times I don't I usually have a meeting that I can't get out of. I don't think my men would see me as much of a leader if I wasn't on the front lines with them.”